Dusty hearts
by Nevertheend127
Summary: Tom doesn't remember falling in love with Elizabeth Keen. It just happened, very much against his will.


It doesn't take long for Tom to realize that there's nothing that Liz is hiding. He only has to look around at the clustered surfaces of their home to realize that.

There's a turquoise bra hanging off the doorknob, faded legal pads strewn out over their pull-down desk, and her books lying everywhere- everything from Tolkien to Pratchet to knitting magazines- he hasn't asked yet how that's coming along, but there's a discarded lump of pastel-pink yarn on their dresser that vaguely resembles a baby's hat. She somehow got the idea into her head that motherhood greatly involved knitting, and failure to master the outdated craft was a sure sign she'd be a terrible parent.

He'd come onto this job expecting a real challange- he had thought that turning into Tom Keen would be the easy part, and winning Elizabeth over would take all of his carefully-honed skills and vigorous training to accomplish.

But Liz, for all her supposed badassery, is one of the most laid-back people he's ever met. Easily interested and generally content, Liz is happy whether they're in a pristine hotel suite or lost on the subway.

As long as he doesn't let her cook dinner and remembers not to leave his dirty dishes lying around, he's golden.

Honestly, it's kind of pathetic to watch. She loves too much and too fast, and Tom knows already how much it'll break her sappy little heart when he leaves.

* * *

Tom isn't used to this. He considers himself adaptable, but it's strange, not having hardwood floors under his back and splinters jabbing at his skin. He's used to hiding under the docks of some port in South America, with a semi-automatic in one hand and a cash clip in the other.

He's gone soft since he's been with Liz.

Now, Tom awakens to warm slats of sunlight and soft blankets, of being twisted around both Liz and the sheets she always drags over to her side. Kisses and coffee and his wife's half-concious complaints about having to get out of bed.

When did he start thinking of her as his wife?

Tom pushes the thought aside, reminding himself that he's the best in the business.

* * *

This is becoming a problem. The girl has gotten to him- he catches himself thinking about her when he doesn't have to and paying attention where he needent. He doesn't have to remind himself to take interest in her, and he's too quick to respond when she tells him she loves him.

* * *

Days later, she finds out. He always knew she would. This shouldn't be as hard as it is. They both say some horrible things to each other and he hits her with a chair. She breaks his thumb, which should even things out, but he still feels guilty as hell.

She fights much better than he ever anticipated. Red was right, he really shouldn't have underestimated her.

* * *

He loves her. Well, fuck.

* * *

Weeks later, she shoots him, and that should be the end of it, if nothing else was. She shot him, for God's sake.

Her voice is the last thing he hears before it all goes dark, and he thinks it's the most beautiful thing he's ever heard.

* * *

Liz holds him captive for months after that. He hates her for it, but it's a dulled, refined kind of hate he imagines family members have for one another- it's the kind of hate that's numbed by simple, mindless love that keeps getting in the way of everything.

* * *

He traces a heart in the dust of his cell, then scuffs it out before she comes back.

* * *

She never asked if he still loved her. She'll be happier not knowing.

He wonders when she'll kill him already.

He strangles the cop that afternoon.

* * *

Tom doesn't know how to forget her. He throws himself headfirst into his work. Goes on a few other missions, taking a job here and there but never staying in one place too long.

Cairo, New York, Moscow, London. Never stopping to catch his breath, never resting to glance over his shoulder. Just moving. Running. A hammerhead shark.

It takes him a while to realize he's trying to run away from her.

* * *

Tom does his best not to think about Liz, and he's good at it. He's always been good at surpressing feelings. When he does think of her, he thinks of smooth scotch and rough sex, sleepy smiles and running jokes.

* * *

He keeps his promise to Red, but in the end, he can't stay away. He's given Liz too much of his identity, too much of himself, and they come together somehow in the end.

* * *

He should have known he'd end up dying for her. It's fucking poetic, if you overthink it.

Two bullets, just like last time, and Lizzie's voice is still the last thing he hears before it all goes dark. But now she's shrieking and crying, shaking fingers drenched in his blood as she begs him to stay, to open his eyes, like that ever really works.

Then there's someone, probably Reddington, trying to drag her away from the scene. Tom's grateful. There's still the crack and bang of bullets ricocheting through the dark, and he wants Liz out of here.

Her sobs grow distant and the gunfire seems to slow. Or maybe that's just him, spinning away from conciousness.

Her voice is still the most beautiful damn thing he's ever heard.

* * *

**I feel like I'm being too liberal with the bar above... thanks for reading!**


End file.
